


Devil's Night

by dralexreid



Series: Dr Piper Bishop [58]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 01:27:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28502202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dralexreid/pseuds/dralexreid
Relationships: Dr Spencer Reid/Dr Piper Bishop
Series: Dr Piper Bishop [58]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1972852
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

Aaron fixed the last jack-o-lantern on the table spread with different shaped cookies as he called out for Jack. He heard his son’s footsteps sprinting down the hall before skidding to a stop in front of him. Aaron took in the blue shirt and plaid overshirt. “Where’s your costume, bud?”

“It’s itchy,” Jack complained.

“Did you try the long sleeves on underneath?”

“I don’t wanna be Spiderman anymore,” Jack said nasally.

“Why not?”

“I don’t know,” he said shrugging.

“Well, you have to make up your mind by tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay.” Hotch turned to look at the Halloween cookies they had made together.

“You did a great job on the cookies,” Aaron praised, but his voice had grown used to being closed off and emotionless.

“Teamwork, right?” Jack said, flashing two thumbs at his dad.

“Teamwork,” Aaron replied, holding a hand up for a high-five. He stared at his son with a perceptive gaze and like an unsub, Jack’s resolve dissolved.

“Can I have a cookie?”

“You want a cookie?” Hotch asked, watching as his son smiled brilliantly. “Can I have one?” Jack nodded vigorously. “Black cat or pumpkin?”

“Black cat,” Jack said, and Aaron obliged. His cell buzzed and sighing, Hotch picked it up.

* * *

Penelope had organised a case for them and after dropping off Jack at his aunt’s, he made his way from Arlington to Quantico. The others had started to file in, with Rossi and Derek arriving first, then Piper, then Spencer and Emily.

In the conference room, Piper heard her boyfriend’s voice filter through the hallway with Emily’s low heels clicking over the catwalk. “The cool thing about Halloween is that it's a uniquely American holiday. I mean, despite its obvious origins in the Celtic Festival of Samhain and the Christian All Saints Day, it really is a melting pot of various immigrants' traditions and beliefs,” Spencer said ecstatically as they walked in, taking their usual seats on either side of Piper. “It became a little more commercialized in the 1950s with trick-or-treating, and today it rivals only Christmas in terms of popularity.”

“All I asked was what he was doing this weekend,” Emily told Rossi, settling into her seat. Piper whipped her head around.

“You still haven’t decided what we’re doing, have you?” Spencer shrugged sheepishly.

I'm toying with the notion of either going to the Edgar Allan Poe Shadow Puppet Theatre or the re-enactment of the 19th-century Phantasmagoria.”

“I don't want to know,” Rossi sighed and Piper collapsed her head onto the desk.

“Oh, yeah, you do,” Spencer said, excitedly. “Phantasmagorias are these amazing pre-cinema-projected ghost shows invented in France, where the showman attempted to spook the audience using science magic.”

“I knew I should’ve just done a Tim Burton night,” Piper groaned as Penelope walked in.

“He couldn’t pick again?” Penelope asked, recognising Piper’s despair. Emily just snickered.

“This place is increasingly turning domestic,” Rossi warned Derek.

“Don’t look at me, man. I’ve worked with this for 7 years,” Derek gestured and Piper shot her spare hair tie at Derek’s forehead, successfully landing with a smack. “Ow, Rossi, she just hit me.”

“I’m about to hit someone,” Rossi murmured as Penelope started handing out files.

“Guys, I wouldn't have to worry about losing my feminine curves if you all paid more attention to all the trees we're consuming around here.”

“When did you become an eco-freak?” Derek asked as Penelope sat down.

“Baby, I was born green.” Piper laughed as Hotch strode into the room.

“Hey, Jack decide what he’s gonna be for Halloween yet?” Piper asked with an easy smile and Hotch shook his head.

“He doesn’t wanna be Spiderman this year. We’ve got a case in Detroit,” he said curtly, shutting down any further discussion. “Arson investigators have noticed a 3-year trend in the days leading up to Halloween.”

“Devil’s Night,” Piper and Spencer said simultaneously before meeting for a low-five under the table.

“This unsub is killing only these 3 days out of the year, burning his victims alive, abducting seemingly random people and dumping their bodies in abandoned parts of town. He struck again last night.”

“Yeah. Tony Torrell, 40,” Penelope added, pointing to the files. “He lives in the suburbs, but he was found 20 miles away in the Rivertown District.”

“Long way to take a body,” Piper remarked.

“He’s attacking the city at its most vulnerable time.”

“What does he do for the rest of the year?” Spencer asked.

“He's dormant,” Hotch replied easily.

“You know, arsonists are typically white males between 17 and 25 who can't stay away from fire,” Spencer remarked.

“Yeah, they're addicted to it and there's no rehab,” Derek continued.

“And they target dwellings, not people,” Spencer finished.

“So, you're saying he burns his victims alive but he's not an arsonist?” Penelope asked in confusion.

“Fire is just his weapon,” Derek answered.

“And Devil's Night gives him the perfect cover to kill,” Spencer added.

“Guys, here’s the thing, immolation is literally one of the worst things you can do to someone," Piper explained. "I mean, it’s up there with eye-gouging and nail-pulling. It used to be a punishment for traitors, heretics and witches, the worst possible crime until the end of colonial America.”

“So, he’s punishing them?” Emily asked.

“Well, it’s either a deeply personal vendetta tied to his identity or he’s got an antisocial personality disorder with minimal to no empathy.”

"Or sadism," Spencer added cheerfully.

“And we’ve got 48 hours before he disappears again,” Aaron said.

“Well, his last victim was athletic," Derek pointed out. "He wouldn't be easy to subdue. The offender must be just as strong or might have an upper hand if he's younger.”

“Still, how does he transport his victims across the city and get them inside buildings without being noticed?” Emily asked.

“We’ll discuss more on the jet. Wheels up in 20,” Hotch dismissed and the team filtered out, with Piper and Spencer still arguing about his inability to choose a date idea.

* * *

On the jet, Spencer was seated next to Emily, his red cardigan starting to itch. It was a new one he’d broken out for Halloween. He felt a weight press on the top of his headrest and, by process of elimination, assumed it was Piper. “Now, I thought Devil's Night was Halloween Eve,” Emily said, looking up from her file.

“The moniker "Devil's Night" is somewhat deceiving,” Spencer supplied. “In Detroit, it's actually a 3-day citywide cultural phenomenon, complete with masks, chaos, and costumes.”

“Say that 3 times fast,” David challenged and he heard Piper snicker above them.

“Sounds like Mardi Gras.”

“Yeah, a violent one,” Piper scoffed, rolling her eyes slightly. “Vandals and amateur arsonists set hundreds of fires.”

“Who burns their own city?” Rossi derided.

“Disillusioned kids,” Piper said, almost mournfully.

“It started as pranks in the 1930s but escalated in the 1970s with disenfranchised youth,” Spencer added.

“Well, given today's economy, it must be a free-for-all,” Derek proposed. “They've got record-breaking unemployment and foreclosures, leaving a lot of displaced, desperate people.”

“And every single one of these victims suffered unimaginable pain,” Emily sighed, shaking her head.

“I'm sure that's what gets him off, watching them burn,” Derek concluded.

“It gives him power and control,” Hotch agreed.

“The top of the whodunit list is first responders,” Derek said, thinking out loud. “Firefighters, arson investigators, cops, and paramedics.”

“Civil servants with a hero complex,” Spencer clarified.

“All of whom will be helping us,” Rossi said.

“This guy’s angry,” Emily said, pulling out photographs.

“Aren’t they all?” Rossi retorted.

“Not like this,” Emily scoffed. “Have you seen these?” She passed the photo of the charred remains to Rossi.

“He turned this guy into barbecue,” Piper murmured.

“I beg of you, Bishop, do not ruin barbecue for me,” Derek moaned. “You’ve already ruined pulled pork for everyone.” Emily snorted derisively and Hotch redirected the conversation.

“I'm gonna ask Garcia to notify us the minute that someone's reported missing.”

“Burns 3 people annually,” Rossi remarked. “It's like his Christmas.”

“And the rest of the year he just plans—” Derek said. “Targeting his victims and then choosing the buildings he wants to kill them in.”

“There's a flaw in his plan. We know about it,” Hotch said confidently. “Morgan, you and Prentiss check out the crime scene. Bishop, I want you looking at past murders. Reid, you’re in charge of the geographic profile. Rossi and I’ll visit the ME.” Piper and Hotch took their seats as the plane began to descend into Detroit, Michigan.

* * *

Piper and Spencer started setting up on various sides of the room. Piper tacked up photos of each victim on her glass board while Spencer pinned up his map of Detroit. Within an hour, Spencer had marked abduction and disposal sites while Piper had written out small outlines of each victim’s background when Rossi’s phone rang in. “What’s up?” Piper asked, perching herself on back of the chair while Spencer sat on the table.

_“He used an accelerant, gasoline. There’s a fracture on the back of his skull.”_

“Blitz attack,” Spencer identified.

_“The unsub’s covering their faces. He doesn't want his victims looking at him, even though he wants to watch them die. It could be a sign of guilt or inadequacy.”_

“Not necessarily,” Piper pointed out. “When the witch trials were at their height, they never covered their faces because burning the witch was seen as a message to the mass populace.”

_“So, by covering the face, it’s personal message.”_

“I think these victims are personal to him in some way,” Piper summed up. “He’s making them feel alone, vulnerable and he’s destroying their senses.”

_“Alright, we’re coming back now. Anything from Morgan and Prentiss yet?”_

“Not yet. Stay safe you two,” she said before hanging up. She turned to her board, looking at each before and after picture. “You have anything?” She asked.

“No,” he sighed, rubbing his eyes. Piper glanced over worriedly.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just this migraine.” Piper nodded.

“You need to cut back on coffee, babe.”

“You sound like my mom.”

“Your mom’s a smart person,” she retorted. “I might have a headache pill in my bag.” Piper moved over to her cross-body bag, fishing for the tablets and a bottle of water. She set both on the table. “And you’re getting lunch with me later.” Spencer chuckled, the corner of his mouth twisting. He took the pill down as Piper squeezed his shoulders. “So, the profile?”

“None of it makes sense. 7 different victims, various ages, sex, and ethnicity. The disposal sites are scattered throughout the city, he doesn’t leave anything to chance, never repeats a building.” Piper rubbed his shoulders, pressing a kiss to the top of his hair.

“It’s okay, Spence. He’s got 3 years over you to plan this.”

“I know, it’s just…” He trailed off, unsure how to put it. “This is all I know. Patterns, logic, problem solving, that’s my forte and the team needs that side of me and I can’t—”

“Okay, baby steps, Spence. There is no logic, no rationale for human behaviour, it is never that simple.” Spencer looked at her in disbelief. “Okay, you want an equation? Here’s how you justify behaviour.” She pulled out a spare notepad and pen, scribbling out a regular algebraic equation. “You have a stimulus,” she said, jabbing at the x written neatly on the pad. “That stimulus causes a reaction. What’s the reaction here?”

“Burning someone alive.”

“Exactly, which is an extreme subset of anger. Now, normally, humans have inhibitions stopping them from doing that. If an unsub shot you, what would you do?”

“Fire back.”

“And if an unsub shot me?” His face paled at the idea. “That’s part of the stimuli. You’ve got environmental factors, genetic factors, social factors, an infinite number of factors. So, don’t beat yourself up about not seeing the pattern.” Spencer nodded, closing his eyes and letting the medicine and Piper’s words soothe him. “Babe,” her voice was laced with urgency. “Look at this,” she said, holding up a medical report.

“Several botched attempts to burn him, so?”

“Spence, this guy, Tommy Proctor, his body wasn't found for days. He was buried deep in the building.”

“It's overkill. He wanted Proctor to suffer the most.”

“And he got addicted to that feeling. But Proctor’s got a very long rap sheet going from vandalism to robbery, destruction of private property, and shoplifting. I’m gonna have Garcia look into him when she gets the time.” Piper said, kissing Spencer’s cheek quickly before leaving. “And I’m ordering Mexican. Deal with it.” Spencer smiled, gathering the organised mess on the table as Derek and Emily filed into the room with Hotch and Rossi.

“Something up?”

“Yeah, there’s a community group, Detroit’s Finest,” Emily said, flicking a strand of hair away from her face. “Garcia’s gonna need to look at them too.”

“This unsub doesn't leave anything to chance,” Derek said. “He knows exactly how long he's got with his victims. He probably knows response times or at least listens to them.”

“Any way we can use that against him?” Spencer asked.

“We don’t know enough about him yet,” Hotch countered. “Prentiss, Rossi, Mrs Torrell’s waiting for your interview.”

* * *

The plan was for Emily to prep Mrs Torrell for the cognitive interview David would do with her. Piper would sit in as a witness to the interview, primarily to support the woman. David sat beside the wife on the couch while Piper was comfortably seated in an armchair in front of them. It was always better to have another agent watching on standby in case things went south. David started setting the scene of the abduction; the Halloween Festival at Greektown, it was 9:30, crowded, the square filled with people in masks and kids running after each other. Mr and Mrs Torrell approached a Greek restaurant and her husband stepped away to check out the Mexican food elsewhere. “Now, do you remember anyone in the crowd, anyone that didn't fit in?” Rossi asked.

“No. But to be honest, I was already looking at the menu,” Kiersten Torrell confessed.

“All right, that's good. Now, don't look up from the menu,” David said, instinctively placing on hand on the couch headrest, the other gesturing as he spoke. “Just listen to me. When you love someone and they step away, there's an instinctive response to glance up to make sure that they're still there. Now, you did that last night even if you don't remember. Okay. You're getting ready to place an order.”

“I already know what I'm getting,” Kiersten said, her eyes closed. “I'm getting the gyro.”

“Kiersten, where's Tony?” David interrupted abruptly and Kiersten flinched.

“He's at the Mexican restaurant.”

“Is someone around him?”

“Yes. Uh, but I can't really make out his face.”

“What about his body? Is it young? Is it old?”

“Uh...25 maybe. Wait. He's wearing a mask. It only covers one side of his face. His ear is gone. And, um...”

“What do you see?”

“It's a black guy. He's black.” David excused himself, and Piper took his spot, asking simple questions about Tony’s life.

Meanwhile, the others were gathered around the briefing room of the fire department and Rossi relayed the information from the interview. “You make him sound like he's Freddy Krueger or something,” the chief said, leaning on the table as he spoke to the team.

“No, but I do think he's severely burned,” David explained slowly.

“It explains why he chooses this time of the year,” Spencer added, as Piper returned, rubbing at her neck. “He doesn't have to hide his scars.”

“I sent Mrs Torrell home with a department escort,” she sighed, taking a seat next to Derek.

“What about his victims?” Derek asked.

“He's punishing them for wronging him,” Piper answered quietly.

“Wronging him?” the fire chief protested. “What about his second victim? Have you looked at Josephine Davis' life? She was the nicest woman in the world.”

“Yes, but he’s had all year to plan his targets,” she said placatingly but firmly. “He keeps track of everyone who’s hurt him in the slightest. Maybe she brushed up against him and forgot to apologise and he fixated on it like a librarian with anger management issues.”

“Hold on, Josephine was abducted from her husband,” Derek pointed out. “Tony was abducted from his wife.”

“You think these couples represent the happiness he covets?” Emily asked.

“Or something he lost,” Derek suggested. “He's a young guy with a deformity. Major insecurities come with that.”

“A trauma like that would be devastating for him and anyone in his life,” Emily agreed.

“He could think they’re showing off,” Piper contemplated. “Like a single person on Valentine’s Day. He feels personally attacked by couples who have what he doesn’t anymore.”

“Do you know how rare it is for an arsonist to be a burn victim?” the fire chief asked, still in disbelief.

“Less than 3.5%,” Spencer answered easily, and Piper held in a chuckle.

“This guy's not an arsonist,” Derek countered. “He's a serial killer who uses fire. And that choice of weapon tells us that he's aggressive, driven, and destructive, just like fire itself.”

“But why would someone so controlling choose the most unpredictable weapon?”

“This juxtaposition tells us there's more going on with him than we realize,” Spencer answered vaguely.

“You know, the major motivation in revenge is experiencing some kind of personal injury and then using it against their victim to make them understand the implications of that kind of loss. It explains why he covers the faces too. It’s his very warped and psychotic way of making other people feel his pain.”

“He’s a bully,” Hotch realised. “Instead of dealing with his personal insecurities, he’s inflicting them on other people.”

“He's probably experienced some kind of loss these past few years that started him down this path,” David suggested.

“We should look at accidents where couples were burned,” Hotch announced.

“We're talking about hundreds of fires,” the fire chief told him.

“Focusing on ones where gasoline was the accelerant,” Hotch clarified and Derek left to answer his cell while Emily continued discussing the case.

“Leaving his victims in the heart of Rivertown, in the centre of these buildings themselves, may be subconscious on his part, but it says that this affected his very core.”

“All right, hold on,” Derek said into his cell, turning around to glance at the profilers. “Somebody else has just been abducted.”

“How do we know this is our guy?”

“Because his daughter said a monster took her daddy away. Garcia, darling, you’re on speaker.”

_“The victim's name is Christopher Edwards. He's 35. He lives in the suburbs.”_

“What part?” the fire chief asked.

“ _Birmingham_ ,” Penelope replied quickly.

“How far is that from the Rivertown District?” Hotch asked.

“Not more than 40 minutes,” the fire chief replied. “He might already be inside.”

“Let's lock it down. We'll trap him.”

“I'm going down there.”

“I'll go with you,” Hotch offered. “Garcia, have Detroit P. D. set up roadblocks.”

_“Got it. Okay, background on our vic. Chris Edwards is a husband, he's a father, he's a general contractor.”_

“I would check any subcontractors who've worked with him,”

_“Okay, that is a humungous list. What do you want me to do with it?”_

“Anything that requires flames— plumbers, electricians, welders. Did he fire a welder recently?”

_“Okay. Uh, he's been using Vinnie's Welding and Fence, but he hasn't hired them back in months. List of employees coming up. It's still a lofty handful.”_

“Okay, we think he's been following the investigation. Look at volunteers with Detroit's Finest.”

_“Ok, I'm crossing employees with volunteers. Nothing.”_

“Come on, baby girl, keep checking. There's gotta be a connection here.”

_“Okay, I'm gonna long-shot it and I'm gonna cross the Michigan Business Directory with the payroll company and see if I still got what it takes to find stuff. And I do. His name's Kaman Scott.”_

“You got an address?”

“Working on it. Ok, from the look of Kaman Scott's early years, he was on a fast track to be some kind of hoodlum bad boy super convict, but something happened in 2004 that made him change his evil tune, 'cause then there's no arrests, there's no suspicions, there's no sign of rehab, but he totally cleaned up.”

“Maybe that's when he met someone,” Emily said.

“Has he ever been arrested with a man named Tommy Proctor?” Spencer asked.

“Yeah, once, uh, 2002... Yikes, and then they collided again in 2005, like literally collided. Kaman was in an accident and his car blew up.”

“Well, there's your gas accelerant,” Derek muttered.

“He was hit by that guy, Tommy Proctor.”

“There's your revenge,” David added.

“Twist of fate. The life he left behind came back to haunt him.”

“So, Tommy walks away without a scratch and Kaman suffers a ton of third-degree burns, had a boatload of skin grafts, was in a coma for a couple of months, lost his apartment. Oh, and then there's that guy-- his landlord was Tony Torrell.”

“So, we were right. He does have a revenge list,” Spencer said, glancing over at Piper who was still in thought.

“What about family, friends, acquaintances?” Piper asked.

“No, that Kaman is a lone wolf. And his address just came up. Big bad lives at 5923 Mills.” Emily and Derek rose from their seats and she tied her hair up into a tight ponytail as the duo raced over to the address.

With raised torches and guns, they canvassed the abandoned house, finding nothing but scraps of metal and life underneath total darkness until Emily reached out for the lamp. “It’s like a cave,” she murmured, looking around the barely lit space.

“This guy hides out all year long.”

“With burns like that, he's probably sensitive to light.”

“And his own skin,” Derek agreed. “When you look around, there's not a mirror in sight. This guy doesn't want any reminder of what he looks like.”

“There's nothing personal in here.”

“Well, we said he'd have nothing to live for.”

“For a planner like Kaman, tonight's abduction was irrational. He went on private property and took Chris Edwards with a witness present.”

“Maybe he's finally starting to feel the pressure and he's reactive.”

“More than that, he's meticulous,” Emily said, her voice echoing around the empty room. “He'd have a plan if he got cornered.”

“He'd have an endgame.”

“Well, he already killed the man he blames for his accident,” Emily said, glancing over at Derek on the other side of the room. “The other victims are slights compared to that.”

“And now he needs to hurt the person that hurt him the most.”

“The one who drives all of this. The one who broke his heart.”

“Yeah, but who the hell is that?”


	2. Chapter 2

Chris Edwards’ body had been found in an alleyway in Riverton and the other profilers gathered under the light of ambulance and police sirens. Spencer was leant over the body with Hotch standing next to him while Rossi and Bishop took the van. As the duo approached, Hotch slipped his cell into his pocket and Spencer stood up, sidling next to Piper, the back of his hand brushing against hers as EMTs took Edwards’s body away. “Chris Edwards fired Kaman Scott 7 months ago.”

“The roadblocks must have forced him out of his comfort zone,” Spencer remarked, glancing around their surroundings. “And he didn’t bother with hiding his face.”

“Probably didn’t get the chance to,” Piper said. “It’s a new environment and any other day, he’d have been immobile. Left his van behind too. He’s definitely panicking.”

“You guys find anything?” Hotch asked.

“Welding equipment, cans of gasoline and a cage,” Rossi said darkly and the fire chief left to bring all his resources down to their side of Detroit.

“Bishop, what’s his plan?”

“Like Emily told us. He’s gonna lash out at his next victim as soon as he can. He’ll try and keep to the shadows, but he hasn’t taken her down for a reason.” Rossi glanced at her. “Either this is his endgame, and he was saving her to be his last victim, or—” Her cell buzzed and she moved to answer it. “Yeah…okay…no, they’re all here, I’ll let them know.” She slipped the cell back into her pocket. “They found pictures of a young woman in his mancave, Emily’s words, not mine. Garcia’s running it through facial recognition as we speak.”

They split into two, Piper and David in one car and Hotch and Spencer in another. They were driving around the general vicinity, keeping an eye out and the lights low until Garcia’s voice came bubbling through the Bluetooth calling system. _“Well, my bees and butterflies, we are on a four-way call. So, I blew up those pictures. In one of them she appears to be in a restaurant, so I zoomed in on the sign that says ‘o’s’, cross-checked that with restaurants in the area, and there are 5 diners. 3 are in the suburbs, 2 are in Highland Park, and one is in Rivertown. Jay-mo's. And this appears to be Kaman's and that girl's favourite place 'cause all the pictures were taken there.”_

“We still don’t have an ID on her?”

 _“Running it through the DMV, nothing yet.”_ All three cars attempted to converge onto the diner when Garcia’s voice came through again. _“A fire alert just went out, it's at Jay-Mo's diner.”_ If he could, Rossi stepped on the gas even harder, praying to get there in time. Meanwhile Hotch, Spencer and the fire chief arrived there first, the diner starting to go up in flames. Aaron and Spencer burst out of the car while the fire chief continued to call for back-up and Rossi pulled up just as Piper saw Spencer running with Hotch into the flames. Rossi immediately dialled 911 and with her heart in her throat, she dialled Garcia, getting out of the SUV.

“Pen, I need you to track the owner of Jay-Mo’s,” she asked, urgency in her voice.

_“Piper, what’s wrong? What’s happening?”_

“Garcia, I need you to focus,” Piper snapped. “Jay-Mo’s. Who’s the owner?”

_“One James Morris. He was married to one Loretta Butler. Wh-Why’s that important?”_

“Because he wouldn’t just burn down a diner,” Piper spat. “He’s after the woman who left him. They have any kids?” Piper finally breathed in relief as two figures burst out of the diner, carrying another, trying not to cry out as the trio dived to the floor as the diner went up in flames behind them.

 _“Yes, they have one daughter. Her name is Tracy Anderson. She was born in 1987.”_ Spencer wobbled over to Piper; his forehead drenched in sweat.

“Okay,” she said, her voice calmer. “Why’d her name change?”

_“When James' wife died, his sister Susan Anderson adopted Tracy.”_

“Where is she now?”

_“She currently lives in Ohio.”_

“And the Andersons, where do they live?”

_“Uh, Indian Village. That's 3 miles away from where you are now.”_

“Thank you, Pen.” She took a beat. “And I’m sorry for snapping.”

“Not the worst I’ve been through. Sending you all the address now.” Piper snapped her cell shut as Hotch approached and another SUV pulled up, revealing Emily and Derek inside.

“I think I know who he’s after.”

* * *

“If Tracy moved to Ohio, that might be the catalyst for his psychosis,” Piper said in the SUV next to Spencer as the duo drove to the Anderson household.

 _“I keep trying the Anderson house, but the line's busy,”_ Garcia said over the phone.

 _“He must already be there,”_ David practically yelled through the phone.

 _“Garcia, have any fires been reported in the area?”_ Hotch asked.

_“Negative, but medics and fire suppression are on the way.”_

_“Good. Tell them to stand by.”_

_“Roger that. Sir, there's one more thing I gotta tell you.”_

_“What is it?”_ Penelope dropped her bombshell and Spencer looked at Piper between gulps of water, the implications of her news dawning on them as the line clicked. They drove a few blocks in silence until Spencer spoke.

“Piper,” Spencer tried. “You still haven’t said a word to me.”

“What’s there to say?” Piper asked, keeping her gaze pinned to the road.

“It’s okay for you to be mad at me—” Whatever Spencer was going to say next was swiftly interrupted by the fire chief’s soft voice through the speaker.

 _“We're here. Your man wants everyone to hold their position. We need a single rifle. I say again, all units, hold your position.”_ Piper pulled up onto one end of the street, facing Derek and Emily’s SUV, before slumping in her seat.

“Piper, please. I just want to talk about this."

“And I don’t,” Piper said, checking her rear-view mirror.

“No, don’t do this. You do this every time. You close yourself off every time things get a little too close.”

“ _I don’t want to talk about this_ ,” she hissed at him, but Spencer stared her down at a level gaze.

“Look, I get it, okay, better than most.” Piper stared at the roof of their car, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Feelings are…complicated. But we have got to be on the same page, Piper.”

“Do you have any semblance of the fear I felt?” she said, whipping around. “I have never been that afraid, okay. I saw you run into a burning building. And as much as I wish, I can’t walk away from that.”

“I’m not asking you to,” he pleaded. “Just…I’m new to this…stuff.”

“So am I, Reid.” She looked at him, her eyes filled with pain and misery, a storm brewing in her head. She turned back to the road. “This is exactly why I wanted to run away. Because things are real now. This is our _job_. This is our _life._ I wake up every morning terrified that we won’t see another one. That I won’t get to wake up next to you anymore. And I _hate_ that feeling. Because I can’t run away from it or whack away at it with a bat.”

“Hey.” She felt his hand on her thigh and she looked up trying to quell the onslaught of tears. “I’m not that easy to get rid of.” She wiped at her eyes.

“If you die on me, you will be forced to sleep on the couch for the rest of your life.” Spencer blinked at her completely serious threat.

“So, you’re just gonna keep my dead body on your couch. No, wait. Cryogenically freeze me—” He felt a tight slap against his shoulder. “Ouch,” he grumbled.

“I’m serious, Spence.”

“Well, luckily for you, I have a natural aversion to death.” Piper snorted.

“Uh, sure. More like a magnetic attraction to death-inducing situations,” she muttered, staring at the road, tapping her foot against the carpet before moving her hand to clutch his. He laced his fingers through hers, pulling the back of her hand up to his lips as they both kept an eye on the Anderson residence.

Meanwhile, Hotch and Rossi glanced through the window as a sniper from the SWAT team joined them. He angled the rifle through the window, glancing at the scope before muttering that he didn’t have a shot. The two profilers waited patiently until the voice of a child was audible to them and as such, the rest of the team. Listening to his instinct, Hotch ducked through the bushes to the back of the house, inching through the place, his gun raised. His gaze grazed over the couple duct-taped to each other, drenched in gasoline and the young black woman held her child, his head tucked into her short dark bob. “Kaman, drop it,” he cautioned.

“You shoot me, I drop this, they burn. Then what?”

“You move, you die,” Hotch warned the burned man.

“I'm already dead. I ain't got nothin' else to live for.”

“Tracy, you need to tell him,” he told the young woman, his glance never leaving the blowtorch in Kaman’s hand.

“Tell me what? What the hell's going on here?”

“He needs to know.” Tracy let her son down and he stood, hugging her leg.

“Kaman... While you were in a coma, I found out I was pregnant,” Tracy managed, her voice thick.

“No...” Kaman breathed.

“I didn't know what to do. I thought you were gonna die. Baby, I'm so sorry.”

“You're telling me... That's my son?”

“Kaman, you don't want to do this in front of your son,” Hotch warned him. “Put it down.”

“Baby, if you don't do it for me, do it for him,” Tracy tried, her hand guarding her son protectively.

“Don't you want to know his name?” Aaron tried and Kaman bent down on one knee.

“What's your name?”

“Daniel Kaman Anderson,” the boy recited before reaching a curious hand to caress Kaman’s burnt skin. Kaman relished the touch, pressing his own hand. Hotch holstered his gun and Kaman gave himself up willingly. The team breathed in relief as they saw their two team members with their pinned unsub.

“Happy ending, right?” Spencer said, turning to Piper in their car, his floppy-haired head still leaning against the headrest.

“And I’m romantic?” Piper grinned, waiting till Derek and David’s respective SUVs left the address before reaching for Spencer’s lips. His hand flew to her jaw, his fingertips touching the tips of her ponytail. Her hand pressed softly against his chest. He pulled away, their noses touching each other, eyes fluttering open slowly. She blinked, an easy smile spreading to her face. Taking a deep breath, Piper turned to the wheel, pulling away from the curb and back to their office.


	3. Chapter 3

Spencer looked up from his kneel next to the DVD player to find Piper standing with blankets and a bowl of popcorn, grinning. “Is that my cardigan?”

“I’ve made it perfectly clear that any and all comfy outerwear that you have purchased at any point in your life belongs to the both of us.” Spencer stood up, clicking his tongue in agreement.

“And yours?”

“Wouldn’t fit you,” she shrugged, popping a kernel in her mouth before laying out the blanket spread. “That’s what you get for being 6ft tall.”

“Should’ve known there was a catch,” Spencer mocked.

“Mmm,” Piper hummed, settling into her corner on the sofa. “Come here, you tall dork,” she said, letting Spencer cuddle up next to her as the title credits of The Nightmare Before Christmas began to roll.

“Hey, Piper.” She heard him softly call and she looked up at him. Her brown eyes blinked slowly at him, her pupils dilated and her lips full, laughter covering the deep sadness in her eyes. “You don’t ever have to worry about me leaving you.” Piper smiled slowly, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. What had she ever been worried about?

* * *

Hotch stood in his fall sweater, a gift from Piper two weeks ago for her birthday, his back turned to the hallway. “You almost ready, buddy?”

“Yes,” Jack said from inside, his soft voice filtering out to the living room.

“Do you need any help?” Aaron asked.

“No.” Hotch waited a few more moments until Jack’s footsteps padded out into the living room. “Okay.” Aaron turned around, seeing Jack in something far too familiar. He was wearing a white button-up, a sloppy tie that looked more like a knot and a too long suit jacket.

“Whoa. That is definitely not Spider-man.”

“He's not a real superhero,” Jack shrugged.

“He's not? Ok, I give up. Who are you supposed to be?”

“I'm you, daddy,” Jack said, an easy toothy smile falling to his lips that reminded him so much of his late wife.

“Come here, buddy,” Aaron said, leaning down to pick up his boy and lifting him up easily before grabbing their candy bucket. “Let's go get some candy, my little G-man.”


End file.
